Porcelain Hands and Other Things
by BandOfTheHawk
Summary: [Guts/Griffith, M for sexual content later on. Collaboration with Dantedestroyer9.] It's been only a matter of days since Guts has been "recruited" into the Band of the Hawk and he's already confused about his standing with Griffith. Over the next few weeks, they'll both begin to discover just how much the other means to them.
1. Three Days Later

Author's Notes: After a little bit of revision help from a close friend, here's the updated version of Chapter 1. Not much is different, but the minor changes made a big difference. Thanks to Dan for all the help and emotional support he's provided. 

"I told you I wanted you, Guts".

"And I still don't know what you mean by that. Am I your employee, or your whore now?"

Griffith laughed, eyeing his bulky new mercenary from across the wooden table inside the Captain's tent. Casca was outside on guard duty, scoffing at every flirtatious statement that left the slender man's mouth. She hated the toying Griffith had been doing with Guts for the past few days. She had never seen this side of him before. "Ugh, so _now_ he's a charmer," she thought to herself. Could it be jealousy? Maybe. The question was mainly whether she was jealous of Guts receiving the attention or jealous of Griffith who clearly had Guts hooked, despite the rough show he puts on.

"Lighten up, Guts. We're all family here." said the man placing the unusual crimson egg on the ragged string around his neck

"Family my ass. I had you as good as beaten back there. If it weren't for that cheap tactic you used…"

Griffith stood up from the table, walked over to Guts' side and interjected sharply, grabbing Guts' face similar to the day he was forcibly recruited.

"Guts. Listen to me."

Guts grumbled under his breath but Griffith did not acknowledge it.

"The Band of the Hawk thrives because of its ability to keep morale high. Do you know how we do that? We all acknowledge that everything that we do is a group affair. You're mine now. You're in this with us. Meaning you need to learn to be more flexible and adapt. I've pried a lot out of you in the past few days-" Casca coughed in a taunting manner from outside. "- And I think it's safe to say that I've learned you-" Casca coughed louder than before. "- but your past experiences have no connection to your time here. I'll say it as many times as you would care to hear it, but we're family here. Please, bear that idea in mind during your stay with us. I think you'll see it comes naturally after a while."

Guts looked off to his left, stone-faced and quiet as can be. He could not forget those memories, those horrible memories that plagued his once restful nights. The memories so terrible they made him unable to bear physical contact with most humans. But in the past there had been two times when exceptions to his strict no-touch rule were made: After his first duel with Griffith and this exact moment. Those two moments shared one commonality - Griffith. His pale, porcelain hands pressed up against Guts' rough, tanned exterior had a somewhat… Soothing quality to them. "He is always so warm" Guts thought. He laughed internally at the thought and pondered, am I growing soft? Both emotionally and physically, Griffith was warm. His touch really did soothe him, guts acknowledged, all while keeping his aforementioned stone-faced expression. His eyes traveled back and forth across the room to the White Hawk's eyes, remaining in a place with a mental "click" between the two men. Griffith smiled his big silly grin and held Guts' face just a little bit more firmly. Guts blinked twice. Their lips brushing lightly against one another, Griffith gave Guts one quick, electrifying peck. Then another. Another, Over and over again, quicker each time. All as if playing with Guts' feelings were the only thing he longed for. Griffith, his hands dropping from Guts' face down to his chest, parted his lips slightly. Guts was rough, forcing his tongue in as he explored Griffith's mouth. Griffith, in his soothing way, danced lightly around his partner's movements, slowly bringing Guts down to a slower, more passionate pace, trading caresses. Griffith's hands again moved from Guts' chest, snaking around his neck as he pressed his soft, pale lips firmly against Guts' one last time. He held them there for what felt like an eternity. Griffith backed off, smiling wryly. Guts raised his right hand, and swung at him with the intention to smash his teeth, but his injury from their last fight made him weak and Griffith easily evaded the strike. Guts slammed his fist onto the table in frustration as he turned his head to avoid Griffith's gaze and cocky smile. Casca let out a heavy "ugh" and stomped off.


	2. The Next Week

Author's Notes: Well, here we are at my "sophomore" chapter as they call it. Taking what all I've learned from writing the first chapter, hopefully this and all subsequent chapters will be a bit more... fluffy from the get-go? Yeah, hopefully. Anyhoo, what's special about this one is it's the first in a change of story direction. Instead of the chapters being separate events, I'm turning it into a more narrative-driven (or about as driven as fluffy smut can get) fic. Hopefully things will flow a bit better from here on out.

The scent of the wildflowers being carried gently by the breeze over the emerald green hill they set up camp on brought a welcomed sense of ease to Griffith. _He always got a kick out of the little things like that_, Guts thought, helping set up the large captain's tent in their new location, not far outside of the Midland castle town. Every so often, Guts would look over and see Griffith stretching, breathing in the warm, fresh air. And every so often, Guts would shout "Hey, jackass! Come help."  
Later that evening, as the sun began to set behind Midland's mountain peaks, everybody was around the camp fire talking about their most recent battle against the Tudors. Or, that's the nice way of putting it. Judeau and Pippin brought two large kegs over to the fire, and everybody was exchanging drunken war stories like a bunch of old men in a pub. "Guts" called Griffith, gesturing with his eyes for them to get away from the scene, they being the only sober ones in the place. Even Casca was yelling and carrying on.  
Away from the fire, the two sat on the side of a slope they found with the perfect incline. The stars were beginning to twinkle, like the proverbial diamonds in the sky. "Here." Griffith said and extended his arm, handing Guts some fresh-cooked meat from the fire. The two ate in silence for what felt like the awkwardest length of time. Tossing the bones to the side once finished, Guts lied down on his back, admiring the now dark azure of the night sky. He didn't get to do this much, just sit and enjoy little things like Griffith did. It felt nice, he thought. Finally, a moment of peace.  
"Guts. About last week."  
"I don't wanna hear it."  
"It was just-"  
"I said I wasn't interested."  
"But I-"  
"Griffith. Stop. You know how much hell Casca gives me over that?"  
"I can only imagine, knowing her."  
"And word's spread around camp. I heard Corkus running his big fucking mouth earlier while we were setting up."  
"I didn't intend for that to happen."  
"Then what did you intend to happen?! Everybody thinks I'm some sort of harlot for you now."  
"I was just showing some affection. Lighten up..."  
"Soldiers don't do that with each other though! You don't see me out to get Casca, do you?"  
"But you're not a soldier, Guts. You're mine. And that makes you whatever I want you to be. I will choose where and how you live, and I will choose where and how you die. That makes what I did nowhere near as inappropriate and the opposite goes for your reaction. You almost hit me. And what did I do to deserve that? I showed affection. Is it so hard for you to learn to have feelings?"  
The sudden figurative bursting of the dam of emotions caught Guts at a loss for words. Griffith, for the past week and a half, had be nothing but frankly, warm and fuzzy to say the _least. _Now he attacked viciously, not holding back words for even a moment. But he stopped and his entire air changed. A new look came upon his face, staring Guts down intently. He stood over Guts, scrutinizing him at every angle of his figure. He shifted his weight over top of Guts as he lifted his right leg and placed it adjacent to Guts' hip, placing his other foot closer to Guts' right. His knees bent. He was now pressing Guts' shoulders back as he straddled him. Guts, although much larger and easily capable of removing the thin, pale man from his waist , sat there in a sort of amazement. He wasn't sure if he was in trouble or not. Before he had sufficient time to really ponder the issue, he felt a heat begin to build. Griffith shifted his weight forwards and back, a quick movement, but more than effective enough. Guts, never one to blush, was about as red as the necklace around Griffith's neck. Griffith could feel Guts growing stiff beneath his weight. He moved more briskly, trying to get a bigger reaction out of him. As he moved, Griffith leaned in and bit Guts' lower lip, sucking on it gently. Guts, growing redder by the moment, let out a rough groan, grabbing Griffith's waist and supporting the motions he was making. The two carried on, exchanging moans and bucking into one another. Guts' hands began to wander, slowly traveling up and down Griffith's back as he pushed his partner down onto him more. Their chests flush against one another, Guts' hands head further down, beginning to reach into the back of Griffith's trousers. "Guts." Griffith groaned. "Wait."  
"Is everything okay?" Guts responded, with a bit more compassion than usual.  
"Someone might find us. Later. I promise."  
"Alright... jackass."


End file.
